Friday, August 8, 2003

By DAVID EPPS
Pastor

"Oh my God," I said out loud as I drove toward Peachtree City, down the dark stretch of four lane known as Ga. Highway 74, near the I-85 connection just outside of Fairburn.

It had been a long day with a longer evening. I had just concluded a two-hour meeting in Marietta and was about to complete the hour-long drive back to my home. Noticing that the gas gauge registered that the tank was almost empty, I stopped at a Chevron station to fill up.

By now, it was 9:30 p.m. and the night was as dark as coal. I pulled up to the pump, got out, pulled out my wallet, found the credit card, laid the wallet on the trunk, and began to fill the tank at the "pay at the pump" island. Finishing up, I replaced the gas nozzle, put the cap back on the gas tank, climbed in the black Chevy Malibu, and drove away.

It was about a half-mile down the road that I realized that I had left my wallet, full of cash (which I had taken out of the bank in anticipation of an out-of-town trip), credit cards, and a full book of checks on the trunk.

I stopped the car, rushed out to check the trunk, and discovered that the wallet was missing. I hurried back to the Chevron station, hoping that the wallet was somewhere in the parking lot. No such luck. Two young men came out of the station to see if I "was the guy that drove away with the wallet on the trunk." Yes, I was, I sadly informed them. The next 20 minutes were spent slowly driving up and down that dark highway, experiencing the wrath of other drivers who didn't understand my snail's pace, hoping that a black wallet would still be somewhere in the middle of or on the side of the road. It wasn't. I keep driving and looking. I also prayed.

My prayers during times of extreme desperation aren't flowery or sophisticated. They go something like this: "Oh God, oh God, oh God. Please, please, pleeeeeaaassseeeee help me find my wallet!" They also involve a fair amount of promise-making if only I can find the wallet. After three passes up and down the road, I decided to make one really, really slow trip down the highway. There, in front of the liquor store, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man approaching my slowly moving car, which was making painstaking progress on the shoulder of the road. He was trying to flag me down, I thought. "Oh great! What does this guy want?" I thought out loud. The young man was African-American and appeared to be in his early 20s. I stopped the car and got out on the side of the road.

"Did you lose this?" he asked as he held up a black wallet. My mouth dropped open and audibly sucked in the air around me. Smiling, he handed me my wallet. The cash, credit cards, and checks were all intact. "I saw it fall off your car and stopped to retrieve it," he explained. "I saw your car turn around, so I assumed that you realized that you lost it. I've been trying to flag you down, but you haven't seen me."

I was stunned. I thought my money, credit cards, and checks were, at best, lost forever and, at worst, were in the hands of people who would go on a shopping spree.

But here he was, this savior of my credit, this guardian angel of my peace of mind. His name was Kareem Prather, he said and had just moved into the area. I shook his hand, thanked him, gave him some of my money as an expression of thanks, and shook his hand and thanked him again. He beamed when I told him that I was a pastor. He was genuinely pleased that he had been able to help someone.

I got his cell number and, about a mile down the road, called him and thanked him again. I don't know who Kareem Prather's parents are, but they raised an honest son.

I've been told that there is a shortage of heroes in this country. But I know of at least one person that has become my personal hero. He is a young black man in his early 20s who, on the side of a major highway in Fulton County, by being an honest man and a man of integrity and character, returned a wallet to a middle-aged white man, and restored my hope in humanity. His name is Kareem Prather and I have been thanking God for him all week.

[David Epps is rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church, which meets at 8 a.m. and 10 a.m. Sundays on Ga. Highway 34 between Peachtree City and Newnan. He may be contacted at FatherDavidEpps@aol.com or at www.CTKCEC.org.]

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